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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131757">Show You Everything</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/saikibutfruity/pseuds/saikibutfruity'>saikibutfruity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>𝘽𝙊𝙏𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙋! | Lil Hal Shit [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Android Auto-Responder | Lil Hal, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Lil Hal has a body, M/M, Plot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Robot Feels, Robot Sex, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Smut, john is fascinated by hal, there's gonna be lots of smutty scenes oops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:49:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,746</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/saikibutfruity/pseuds/saikibutfruity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lil Hal finally has a body, but he has no friends and nothing to do. John Egbert becomes both- a friend, and something to do, that is. He vows to show Hal everything he's never experienced before.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Auto-Responder | Lil Hal &amp; Dirk Strider, Auto-Responder | Lil Hal/John Egbert, Auto-Responder | Lil Hal/Sollux Captor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>𝘽𝙊𝙏𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙋! | Lil Hal Shit [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You're a Dork</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ur boy popped off on this front this was supposed to be a oneshot but oh well. Haljohn long con is coming ur way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your name is HAL STRIDER, and you have no clue what to do with yourself. Currently, you are standing very still, watching with rapt attention as your creator and brother, DIRK STRIDER, shows you how to build a PUPPET DILDO SLASH FLESHLIGHT.<br/><br/>“And you use what kind of wires?” Dirk prompts. Your eyes squint down at the gutted puppet he has taken apart and is now putting back together under your scrutiny.</p>
<p>“Copper, duh,” you answer, although you're not really paying attention. Now that you have a body, Dirk has taken to treating you like a human, which you appreciate, but it isn’t like you don’t still have a constant internet connection and the processing power to hack government databases. Not that you’d do that on Earth C, since you and the players of SBURB are all somewhat in control of political happenings anyways. He doesn’t <em>really </em>need to be showing you how to make smuppets because firstly, you remember all his memories up until age 13, when he already knew how to make them, and second, you could figure it out in approximately 0.07 seconds even without your prior knowledge.<br/><br/>The real reason for him showing you, you know, is to spend time with you. Which is totally sweet of him (although he’d deny it vehemontly,) and not entirely necessary. You and Dirk, for one thing, are both SPLINTERS OF DIRK. Sure, you’re 110% your own person, and the differences between the two of you that have been born of your time spent in different circumstances are stark, but there will never be a reality where you and Dirk aren’t constantly on the same page. You know what he feels, he knows what you feel, it’s simple.<br/><br/>Well... maybe right now he doesn’t know how you feel. He’s still rattling on, so you zone out again, keeping a generous 10% of your awareness on his lesson. You use an even more generous 15% (which is really way more than necessary) to play tetris on Dirk’s computer the next room over. You only feel a <em>little </em>bad about it, because Dirk knows you don’t need this lesson, but he’s also making an effort. You know he doesn’t particularly like you in the traditional sense, because you’re <em>him </em>and he both hates himself, and hates that anyone else could be him. But you don’t hate Dirk, which is one of the big differences about you that you honestly like the most. Somehow being trapped as only a brain with no chemical functions for so long as caused you to experience much less self-loathing than him. This may also be partially due to the fact that you are literally the smartest person alive and on top of this way less manipulative than him in general as a result of being able to identify that you are being manipulative within 1.63 seconds of doing it on average. Dirk is all human; he doesn’t realize until it’s too late. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It isn’t that Dirk is even so overly-manipulative himself. He is sometimes, but he knows it’s wrong and stops himself if it is really, genuinely too far. He will not recognize this, again, because he’s all human. </p>
<p>So yeah. You feel a little bad for brushing off his efforts to include you in his daily life, but... it isn’t what you need right now. At the moment, you’re experiencing something you’ve been feeling quite often lately; the itch for adventure. </p>
<p>You know that makes you sound like Jake, which is disgusting. You hate Jake, unlike Dirk, who is still pining after him in his mopey little self-hatred dome. Apparently no amount of being broken up for years and becoming adults can erase Dirk’s sad little mancrush. He definitely has a type and his type is himbos. </p>
<p>You just... You need to go somewhere that you haven’t been before. There’s so much you haven’t done yet. It’s only been a month since you got your body and for a solid two weeks of that time basically all you could do was play videogames and jack off, until Kanaya and Dirk finished your suit and you were able to get up and experience things without being sent into a state of overwhelmedness. So far, you’ve mostly been hanging out with Dirk and Dave, and most of what you’ve been doing has consisted of learning new skills. You fucking love skills, especailly the kind where you use your arms to do them, because applying your overwhelming knowledge of everything to being impressive at everything brings you immense joy. You can feel burning envy radiating off of Dirk in waves every time you cook something complicated and delicious. He’s a disaster in the kitchen, and his attempts at teaching you to cook were no better. Actually, that was one of the few times you’d spent with someone other than the Striders; Dave had realized pretty quickly they’d be no help, so John had been recruited to help you learn. He was a pretty good chef, but you think you might be nearing the place where you can give him a run for his money.<br/><br/>You wonder if he’ll come over again soon. The Cases de la Dirk seems empty with just the two of you there. It feels like back when you were glasses on his face, the two of you surrounded by nothing but ocean. You don’t mind the nostalgia of being alone all of the time, but right now you itch to be somewhere else. </p>
<p>“Hey, Dirk,” you interrupt him right in the middle of an explanation for how two gears turn a certain way to make the smuppet vibrate. He raises an eyebrow. </p>
<p>“Yes, Hal?” he asks, tone careful. You have both become very practiced users of the other’s name, something which makes you both a little more comfortable around each other. Although you are different people, sometimes a verbal reminder is nice.<br/>“Can I go somewhere? Like, I don’t know,” you trail off. Dirk’s brows furrow on his temple, his straight-lined mouth turning down just slightly at the edges. For the first few days of your existence, you’d tried to maintain the same strider patented look, but you gave up on it. You like expressions too much. </p>
<p>“Why are you asking me? I’m not your mom,” he points out. You snort, because he literally created you.<br/>“I won’t point out how wrong that is. So can I?” you press, and you grin at him hopefully. He shrugs. </p>
<p>“Bro, do what you want. For real, I... I know I just made you a body and you feel like you have to stay with me, but you’re like your own living person. Make plans with someone, go do something. Whatever you want,” he says earnestly. You wince. You kind of hate when Dirk gets all serious and emotional like that, just because you’re used to a lack of intimate emotion between the two of you. You know he feels guilty for entrapping you in a life of torment, and now he’s trying to make up for it, and you know on some level he’s right. You feel like you’re bound to him, your creator, the one who made your body. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Also, you don’t know who the fuck you’d even hang out with. That really gives you more pause than anything. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess I... sorry. Do you, uh,” You trail off again, face scrunched up in annoyance. How had you never realized that you had, like, no friends? “I’ll see you later,” you finally decide, and stalk off. You don’t want to hang out with Dave right now, because you have been for weeks. Your mind jumps back to the only other person you’ve seen recently. </p>
<p> </p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span class="dave">yoshimiKiller [YK]</span> <span class="pesterlog"> began pestering</span> <span class="john"> ectoBiologist [EB].</span></p>
<br/>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Hey John, are you busy right now?</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: oh, hal?</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: i see you changed your chumhandle. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Sharing Dirk’s was getting annoying. People kept mixing us up. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: can i ask what it means?<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: i don’t really get it lol<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: It’s just a reference to an album I like. Music is a lot better with like, real ears and shit. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: It’s called Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: And I’m a robot, so yoshimiKiller. I’m probably going to change it again later. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: oh, i like it!<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: both because of the fitting nature of the reference and because it proves that you’re a total dork</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: What. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: i said i like it!<br/>YK: I am not a total dork. You’re a total dork. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: nah you’re a huge dork. your favorite album is about a girl sword fighting robots. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Uhhhhg. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Yeah okay that’s fair. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: I have the right to be a dork though, seeing as I literally know everything. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: you don’t know *everything*!!!!<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Yes I do. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: then what number am I thinking of right now?<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Calculating... </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Calculating... </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: stop being a dick &gt;:B<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Was it 420?</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: ... </span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>You laugh out loud. John is a fucking nerd. </p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span class="john">EB: no<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: There is a 89.34% chance you are lying.<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: My next guesses are; 69, 13, and any two-digit number that ends with a 7. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: yeah it was 420</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Of course it was. You’re a total dork. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: &gt;:B<br/>YK: &gt;:]</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: So are you busy orrr<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: oh right i didn’t answer you!</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: i’m not doing anything.</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: why?<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Wanna do something?</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>You pause. You can’t tell whether he’ll say yes, which is kind of scary. You don’t have enough data. It would be awkward if he said no, and would probably hit your self esteem harder than you’d like to admit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your phone dings. </p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span class="john">EB: yeah sure!</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: what do you wanna do?</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Not sure tbh. I didn’t really think past ‘find someone you can chill with.’ </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: I just kinda needed to get out of the house. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: yeah i get ya</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: i used to get like that when i lived with my dad lol</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: well do you wanna do something active, or something lowkey?</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Active sounds pretty good. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: It will keep my processing occupied more than something lowkey. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: okay cool!</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: we can go hiking if you want</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: i wanted to go soon anyways! :B</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Oh I thought that was more of a Jake thing?</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: I would love to go hiking, I think. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: I’ve never done it though so I guess I’ll find out. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: oh right i forgot you’re new to being like</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>You wait for him to say real and shatter your robot heart. </p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span class="john">EB: physically capable of doing stuff</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: that must've sucked only being able to experience your life through coded shit and computery stuff</span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>Oh. He thinks you’re real. He thinks you’re <em>life. </em></p>
<p>You ignore the bubbly feeling this evokes in your gut as you respond.</p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<p><span class="dave">YK: ‘coded shit and computery stuff’</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: I think that’s my new favorite phrase. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: it is pretty cool!</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: The coolest. Absolutely dope. </span></p>
<p><span class="dave">YK: Actually<br/><br/></span></p>
<p><span class="dave">yoshimiKiller [YK]</span><span class="pesterlog"> has changed their chumhandle to</span> <span class="dave"> computeryStuff [CS].<br/></span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: aww what about yoshimi?</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">CS: She’s dead. She lives on in our hearts. &lt;/3 RIP Yoshimi. </span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: pfft</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: you’ll have to show me that album by the way!</span></p>
<p><span class="john">EB: but are we going to go hiking then?</span></p>
<p><span class="dave">CS: Yeah, sure. </span></p>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>“Okay awesome!” You jump, startled by John appearing very suddenly behind you. </p>
<p>“JESUS CHRIST, EGBERT,” you manage to shout, before promptly toppling over onto your bed. He laughs loudly, his shoulders shaking and his feet swinging in the air where he floats a good foot or so above the ground. His expression is bright and giddy. </p>
<p>“Gotcha!” He hollers, and flops backwards to lie on the bed next to you, leaving a respectful foot and a half of distance in the middle. “Okay, so I know exactly where we should go. You wanted to go now, right?” he adds hastily, as if only now realizing that materializing in someone’s house with no warning isn’t very well-thought-out. You snort. </p>
<p>“Yeah, that’d be good,” you sigh, and rake your hands through your hair. You’re hyper aware of John’s eyes following your hands, squinted slightly as you do it, so you stop after a moment. </p>
<p>He flashes you a thumbs up after a moment, and then leans towards you and grabs your wrist. In a flash, the both of you stand at the start of a hiking path, and you reel away to catch your balance while he laughs some more. You glower, punching him solidly in the arm. </p>
<p>“Don’t be an ass,” you whine, and John grins wickedly at you. </p>
<p>“Never. Ass is my favorite,” he declares, and when you raise an eyebrow, shit-eating grin growing wider, he slaps a hand to his forehead. “I just meant- and you know what-”<br/>“Don’t mention it, straggot,” you hum petulantly, and John sticks out his tongue at you like a child. You do it back. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of you go back and forth for a while longer before John decides that hey, you should really be walking here. You’re meant to go for a hike. You agree, and so the two of you start your dutiful trek uphill. You’re entirely positive that John uses his windy powers to boost his steps, but you aren’t jealous. You like the feeling of getting a little warm as your processors speed up to compensate for you being active. Your breath feels sweeter and more refreshing, and if you get exhausted enough, steam will start coming out of your nose like you’re smoking. It looks super cool, and because of your massive intellect, you know it won’t have a negative affect on your body functioning. </p>
<p>The trail John took you to is... actually extremely nice. It’s gorgeous, colors bursting in front of your eyes. You’re on a mountain, but the path is carefully carved to be not too steep the whole way. It’s well maintained, wooden bridges crossing its streams and gorges, signs pointing which way to go just in case you get off track. You lose yourself in the feeling of being alive again, of breathing and stepping and seeing. There are trees covered in pink and white flowers surrounding you, and petals fly off of them lazily. It isn’t until the petals start thinning out more and you shake yourself out of the wondrous stupidity of staring after each of their individually lazy descending paths that you realize John isn’t next to you anymore. You turn around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There he is, standing 10 feet behind you, halted in his tracks. He’s hovering up above the ground and staring straight at you, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. You frown. </p>
<p>“...John?” you ask slowly. He blinks, floats a little closer. With a start, you realize he’s about to cry. “John, what’s wro-”</p>
<p>You don’t get to finish your sentence. John flies at you, barreling you over onto the petal-scattered dirt and wrapping his arms around your torso. You’d never realized how big he was before, but now you do, strong arms encasing your skinny torso and wide chest pressing against yours. He shakes, ever so slightly, and slowly, you return the embrace. </p>
<p>“John.” you repeat, and he breathes a huff of air onto your neck, preparing to speak. He does it to clear out his lungs, but the sensation sends a small part of your processing power into dealing with the overstimulation. Thankfully, your suit prevents the hug from doing the same. </p>
<p>“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he blubbers, and you realize that oh, he actually did start crying. He’s <em>crying. </em></p>
<p>“Don’t be sorry,” you deny, and pat his back awkwardly. “Just tell me what’s wrong, John, okay?” </p>
<p><br/>You remember the first time this happened. You hadn’t thought it might become a habit, hugging John like this, one of you crying. The first time <em>you </em>were the one crying because you had been cooking, and you had been so happy, and he had been so proud, and he made you a plate and you couldn’t eat it. You had cried like a child over nothing, he had comforted you like it was everything. </p>
<p>You’re not gonna leave him hanging now.<br/><br/>“I just... you were-” he chokes off in a quick, strangled sob that squeezes your non-existent heart up into a sensation you can’t identify. His tears are getting on your shoulder, but you don’t care. “You looked so, so,” he squeezes you tighter. You think this time it’s probably just to hide his face. </p>
<p>“You really haven’t seen anything yet,” he whispers, and you feel your heart shatter. “You haven’t seen anything. You looked so in awe, like this was the most important thing you would ever witness, and I’ve been here a million times, and I’ve never looked like that,” he rushes out. Your hands loosen their grip around him, and you feel yourself go slack. You’re not real, of course you aren’t, not to him. Why would you think you were? He pities you, thinks you’re some artificial broken bot who needs fixing or replacing-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hal?” he murmurs, and you’re pulled out of your coding and back to your body. At some point, he pulled back from the hug, he’s cradling your cheeks in his hands like you might fall apart. You try to remember which scan will tell you if you’re falling apart; there isn’t one. </p>
<p>“Hal,” he breathes, more firmly this time. “I’ll show you everything.” A petal drifts between the two of you, and despite all your willpower, it catches your eyes. This one's pink, dusty and light, and John smiles slightly as he watches you watching it. He removes one of his hands from your face, flicking his finger upwards. The breeze follows the motion, blowing the petal up to settle on your nose. Your eyes get wide, and you know you just look stupid, but you take off your shades and cross your eyes and stare at it, not daring to move. Without even meaning to do it, you record your vision for a moment, staring at the petal, and then up at John, tears streaking his goofily smiling face. He wipes his eyes off and sniffles, and you finally cry. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>..</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You gotta stop doing this to me, man,” you whimper, the red-colored water stored in your artificial tear ducts pushing itself out of your sockets. John stares at it in wonder, and you think that he probably looks right now like you did staring at the flower petal on your nose. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” he whispers, and you both laugh. This time, you’re the one flinging yourself onto him, arms wrapped tightly around his wide shoulders as best as they can. You lie there for a while; you aren’t sure if you and John are even really friends, but you think this interaction probably cements the fact. You’re painfully aware of how little you actually even know about friendship. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually, you finish the hike, although John claims to be ‘emotionally exhausted,’ and floats absently the rest of the way while you walk. Again, you don’t mind if he cheats. You like walking. </p>
<p>The top of the hike is a peak overlooking a vast forest and a lake, and you breathily ask John how long he can stay before he has to be anywhere. He smiles at you as if he’s known you for his whole life. </p>
<p>“We can stay as long as you want, Hal.” He assures you, and without another word, you plot yourself down near the edge of the peak, staring over the landscape below. John lies down next to you, content to stare at the sky and keep you company. You scoot closer to the edge, dangling your legs off, and John chokes out a strangled noise that’s a mix of worry and shock. </p>
<p>“Absolutely not!” he cries, trying to tug you back. “You are NOT immune to fall damage, Dirk would kill me and-” You snort, pulling your arm out of his grip. </p>
<p>“L-M-A-O, fall damage. I’ll be fine, trust me,” you hum. He glares, brow furrowed. </p>
<p>“No, I am not letting you be that reckless. At least hold onto me. If you fall, you can take me down too and I can float us,” he grumbles, and seizes your hand into his own. You flush, turning your head back to the outlook so he won’t see. You squeeze his hand without meaning to, and then do it again on purpose. You do it a few more times, trying to figure out what you like about the feeling, before John raises an eyebrow, tugging slightly on your hand to get your attention.</p>
<p>“Oh! Sorry,” you say, blush deepening as the circuits in your face overheat slightly. “I just, I was trying to figure out how it feels,” you tell him. You figure there’s no use lying about it. He knows you’re a robot, anyone who can see knows that.<br/>“What, how it feels to squeeze someone’s hand?” he asks, and you nod slowly. He smiles, shaking his head. </p>
<p>“You’re amazing, Hal, you know? Watching you discover things is like my new favorite thing,” he says idly, and WOW, that made you feel tingly.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Your name is HAL STRIDER, and you think you might be falling in love with JOHN FUCKING EGEBRT. Maybe your really <em>are </em>a dork. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Backing your data</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They get home, hal cooks, john eats. Dirk is out, so John hooks Hal up to charge.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry about the title LMAO spoiler alert john really has a thing abt back muscles &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes a long time before you’re satisfied with drinking in the view below. You can tell Egbert starts to get antsy an hour in, but when you question him, he shakes his head at you. </p><p>“Do <em>you</em> want to go back?” he asks calmly. The answer is no, so you stay. John pulls out his phone eventually, messing with some game while you stare out at the horizon. You spot a couple of hawks on the breeze, watch cars drive by on a faraway road, scaled to look like toys from your vantage point. </p><p>When you finally tear your vision away from the view, it isn’t because you’re bored of it, to be honest. You could stay here forever, but you know John needs to sleep. You don’t know if you’re up to walk back down the path and figure out the way home, either, so you flop backwards and pull your legs off of the overhang, blinking lazily up at him. </p><p>“Wanna bounce?” you ask, and he looks up from his phone, smiling sleepily at you. Yeah, he’s tired, like you thought. You kind of are too; you need to go into sleep mode soon, so that you can properly store everything you’ve experienced today.<br/>
“Alrighty,” John yawns, and in a breezy flash that feels more relaxed than the one earlier, you’re transported home. There’s a note from Dirk on the door, saying he’s out, so the two of you let yourself in. John leans against your counter, and you automatically begin pulling out ingredients for dinner. Dirk is a horrible cook, so you’ve taken to making dinner most nights just in case he hasn’t eaten. If he has, he’ll have it tomorrow. It’s something that Dirk thinks is surprisingly caring of you, especially since he doesn’t think it’s something he would ever think to do.</p><p> </p><p>“What’re you making?” John hums, voice slurred with exauhstion. “Don’t you not- I mean, we,” he cringes, and you smile lightly. </p><p>“Nah, it’s for Dirk.” You reply shortly, pointedly ignoring the tactless comment about your inability to eat. You know John means well; he always does. His niceness seems almost impossible, honestly. “And I’m making enchiladas,” you add, almost an afterthought. John drags himself up off of the kitchen island to follow you around the space, watching over your shoulder as you chop vegetables and mix sauces. When you finally move on to actually frying the meat for the dish, he finds purchase by placing his chin on your shoulder to watch the pan as you cook. Your synthetic breath hitches in a way you think it probably shouldn’t. </p><p>“Looks good,” John mumbles, and yawns again, long and wide-mouthed. When his face relaxes again, it’s buried even deeper in the crook of your neck. Fuck.</p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>You don’t know what you’re doing, honest. You just... you like hanging out with Hal. Dave will always be your best bro, and you like Dirk plenty, but there’s a kind of sincerity and vulnerability about Hal that the other Striders just don’t have. He’s honest, and while he can get wrapped up in banter like his brothers, he doesn’t do the avoidance thing they do, covering up anything they don’t feel comfortable talking about with irony and satire humor. Hal just talks, and it seems like maybe being an AI and thinking at a probably insane speed has removed some of the emotional walls Dirk imbued on him during his making. </p><p> </p><p>You’re excited when he invites you to hang, you joke around for a while on pesterchum before deciding where to go. Then you go hiking and there’s something about watching Hal experience things like a child who doesn’t know what the world is that makes your heart ache, the corners of your eyes stinging. You want to make him look like that all the time, to watch his face light up with wonder constantly. </p><p>That’s what bros are for, right? You decide you’re going to show him everything he’s missed, because bros don’t let bros stay in Dirk’s house all day playing tetris and being bored.<br/>
<br/>
And so you finish your hike, after a relatively quick midway feelings jam, and sit for hours at the peak at the top, watching hall watch the view. He stares out for the whole time, wide-eyes shifting over trees and sky and everything he’s never gotten to see from above before. While he watches the view, you watch him, eyes trained on his face, hand clasping his tightly. You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything; first of all, you’re just making sure he won’t fall. He wanted to sit on the edge, and the look on his face, you couldn’t say no. You weren’t going to risk his falling, though, and you can fly if he pulls you down too. Secondly, you’re straight. You don’t like dudes like that. If Hal’s hand is warm in yours, it’s because he has circuits warming him up in order to keep him functioning. If his palm feels comforting and easy in your own, it’s because you and he are friends. </p><p><br/>
But maybe you’re more than just friends. You don’t know what you want from Hal, to be honest. What kind of friend pulls out his phone to make it seem like he’s not just admiring his bro’s face? What kind of friend loiters in his bro’s kitchen uninvited, snuggling up on his shoulder while he cooks?<br/>
Hal breaks you from your thoughts for a moment, nudging you gently off of him with his opposite hand so he can transfer the meat from the pan into tortilla wraps and pack them into a baking dish. You watch the muscles of his back move fluidly under his pressure-suit thing as he bends down to put the enchiladas in the oven.<br/>
You’re really, <em>really </em>sure that you’re straight. You are. You just crave a little emotional intimacy same as anyone else, and Hal is always so real to be around. He lets you touch him without making it weird because he knows you need a hug sometimes, he lets you cry and he cries with you.<br/>
<br/>
“Wanna stay and eat? Dirk won’t be home for a while,” Hal tells you suddenly. You become aware of the fact that you were just... staring at him. You know you look too tired for him to notice it, though. </p><p>“Sure,” you yawn, and Hal nudges you gently over to one of the stools at the kitchen island. You slump onto it, windy-ing yourself up instead of climbing on. Hal snorts; he doesn’t have godtier powers, because he wasn’t a player of the game. You wonder if it bothers him. You remember another thing that he can’t do is eat, just as he sets a plate in front of you. He sits on top of the counter, seemingly zoning out as you take a bite. You wonder if he’s playing tetris. </p><p> </p><p>The food is divine. You gasp in excitement as you taste it, hand reaching out to shake Hal’s wrist. He blinks and looks down at you, your face split with a grin. </p><p>“This is so good!” You gush, and you watch with interest as the white material of his face tinges darker, little wire-like lines underneath his outsides going red with warmth.<br/>
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and you squeeze his wrist lightly before letting go to keep eating. </p><p>“You learned from the best,” you hum teasingly, and he laughs breathily. </p><p> </p><p>**</p><p>Oh god oh god oh god. Why in the hell would you invite him to have dinner? This is so awkward. You can’t even eat. You’re just going to be sitting here while he eats. </p><p>He compliments you and you half heartedly thank him. He squeezes your wrist, and the action is so heartwarming it hurts.<br/>
You think back to the last time you were in the kitchen with John, and you were cooking, and he was eating. Jesus, you’d <em>cried. </em>You won’t cry now, obviously. John had made you feel way better about not being able to eat, even though you still kind of really wanted to know what it was like. At least you could taste what you were cooking by licking spoons. For now you were content to watch John shove enchiladas unceremoniously into his mouth, making happy noises at the taste. You cooking for John was probably the best substitute for eating that you could ever have, really. He looks like a puppy with a bone. </p><p> </p><p>When he finishes eating, you’ve almost fallen asleep yourself; you’ve run through a lot of the power you’d stored last today, and you were definitely in need of a recharge. You thought maybe you’d plug in tonight instead of just doing sleep mode. You could probably use it. </p><p>You’re about to get up and grab John’s dish, but he beats you to it, floating over to your sink, rinsing it, and popping it in the dishwasher. You both look equally tired. You’re about to ask him if he’s gonna head out, when you feel a little ping in your consciousness. </p><p> </p><p><span class="dirk">timaeusTestified [TT]</span> <span class="pesterlog"> began pestering</span> <span class="dave">computeryStuff [CS]. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Jesus, your chumhandle is so dumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CS: Oh yeah, I meant to change it. Hold up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span class="dave">computeryStuff [CS]</span> <span class="pesterlog"> changed thier chumhandle to</span> <span class="dave">cookBot [CB]. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Is that all you wanted to say? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: What no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Just letting you know I’m staying at Roxy’s tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Wait really</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Do you have time to hook me up to the charger or are you there already? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Can you just do sleep mode? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I really should’ve made it so you could hook yourself up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: I’ll fix it this weekend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: I can but I kinda need the juice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: It’s all cool. I'll ask John to help me out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: You’re with John? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Yeah we went hiking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: So why is he still there? It’s like 6 PM.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Oh he was hanging out while I made dinner and he ate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: What’d you make? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Brothers who abandon me to sleep over at Roxy’s don’t get dinner, Dirky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: I’ll send the rest of it home with John just to spite you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Damn you value John over your own bro??<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Harsh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: What do you take me for? </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: I can’t believe you’d doubt me. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Of *course* I value John over you &gt;:]</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Ouch </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">CB: Go chill with Roxy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="dave">BS: I’ll see you tomorrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span class="dave">cookBot [CB]</span> <span class="pesterlog">ceased pestering</span> <span class="dirk">timaeusTestified [TT].</span></p><p> </p><p>You blink away the chat window in your mind’s eye- although really it’s just the monitor in the other room- and look up at John again. He’s slumped onto the granite countertop, half-asleep the same as you. With a sigh, you shake his shoulder. </p><p>“Hey, bro, wakey wakey,” You grumble. John snorts, turning over to raise an eyebrow at you. “Do you mind helping me out? I need to hook up to the charging machine and Dirk isn’t coming back until tomorrow.” </p><p>You think John will hesitate; out of all your friends, he’s like, the worst with Dirk’s complex tech, if only because Jane and Jake are used to dealing with it. He doesn’t, though, simply nodding and pulling himself up with a gust of wind. </p><p>“Yeah, okay. You’re gonna have to walk me through it though,” he yawns. The two of you move out of the kitchen, and you lead him down the hall to what has become your room. There’s a bed in there for your more human-like sleep mode, but you bypass it to open a closet door on the left side of the room. The closet is a walk-in, and if you were just filling it with clothes, it would seem grandouise. Only about a quarter of it is occupied by your drawer, though, and inside are like, 2 shirts and 4 pressure suits. The rest of it is spare parts. On the back wall is the charging station, a cocoon-like hammock that you ease into backwards before Dirk hooks up cables to your spine through the back of it. </p><p>Or- usually Dirk. Today, John. You feel your wires heat at the thought. Hooking into the cocoon is intimate, your pressure suit will have to be removed and John will need to touch you. You try to push the thought away; you’re just going to bed. It’s like he’s your dad tucking you the fuck in or something and wow, instead of making you feel better your imagination is just getting really kinky now. </p><p>If John notices your wires flush hot under your cheeks, he says nothing. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, here,” you say quietly, and nudge John to stand behind the cocoon. Luckily for you, the wires are labeled by number, and all you’ll need to do is tell John what order to plug them into your ports. You reach for the zipper of your suit, and then hesitate. </p><p>“Don’t- don’t look while I take off the shirt, okay?” you ask, your voice feeble to your own ears. John blinks, and nods. You turn to face your back to him, and reach over your shoulder, unzipping the pressure suit and sliding the sleeves off of your arms so the shirt hangs off your waist like unhooked overalls. </p><p> </p><p>**</p><p>“Don’t- don’t look while I take off the shirt, okay?” Hal’s voice shakes slightly as he asks. You nod, surprised at the request. You fully intend to respect it, as well, but he turns around and starts unzipping his suit before you can close your eyes. You become enraptured, your gaze following graceful fingers as they pull the zipper down in one fluid motion. His hands reach to his forearms one at a time, pushing the fabric of his sleeves down his arms and off of his wrists like water off a falls. The upper half of the suit hangs from his waist, and the muscles of his back flex around small metal rings running up his spine. Without realizing it, you reach forward, running your finger over the one closest to his neck. </p><p>Hal shivers, eyes widening as he whips his head around to face you. You curiously press against the metal bearing, and the sound that slips from Hal’s lips is ungodly. You snatch your hand back, flushing bright red. He does too, the wires growing hot under his cheeks. </p><p>“I’m sorry!” you rush out quickly, but Hal just shakes his head, turning his gaze pointedly away from you as he tosses himself backwards into the hanging fabric at the back of the closet. </p><p>“It’s fine,” he says shortly, his voice high and pinched. “Just... the cables come off the front of the powerbox on the wall. Find the one labeled ‘1.’ That’s the one for the highest ring on my neck,” he amends quickly, and you nod before realizing he can’t see from inside his weird hammock-like chair. You locate the wire, bringing it towards the back of the chair. There’s no holes in the fabric, but it’s made of something thin and elastic, so you can see the outline of the metal ports running down Hal’s spine, as well as the indent of his shoulder blades against the surface. </p><p>“Do I just...?” you trail off, unsure, and Hal shifts slightly, the fabric stretching around him. You stare as it moves. </p><p>“The cable should be tipped with a needle,” he says slowly, and you nod, feeling queasy. You feel like you can’t possibly do this without screwing up, and you’re probably right. “Just find the metal ring and stick the needle in the hole of the ring,” he tells you, his tone low and careful. You shiver. </p><p>“Won’t I hurt you?” you whisper, and he pauses, shifting again in the chair. </p><p>“No,” he mutters. He’s lying. You press your palm flat against the plane of his back, right next to the metal ring that you can see through the stretchy fabric of the chair. </p><p>“Really?” you press suspiciously, and he shifts again. This time, you can feel the muscles as well as see them, moving like a well-oiled machine under your palm. Well- that’s not far off. </p><p>“It’ll just be a pinch,” he admits, and you don’t like the idea of hurting him even a little. You resign yourself, though; he needs to recharge. You want him to feel good, refreshed, more than you dislike the idea of pricking him a few times. <em>It’s like acupuncture</em>, you tell yourself. </p><p>Slowly, you move the needle towards the port, aligning it in the center of the ring before pushing it towards the fabric. The material offers no resistance, the thin blade-edge of the cable sliding between the threads that it consists of. You hear hal breathe in sharply as it pierces his skin, and you notice that it moves through easier there, too, easier than you’d expect from the material he is. </p><p>“Did I-” you worry your lip, but Hal’s arm reaches backwards to press against the fabric, and you cut yourself off, tapping your own hand down against his to let him feel that you’re there. </p><p>“You did fine, John. The next one, unsurprisingly, is number two.” </p><p>You nod, although he can’t see it. You grab the next needle, pricking it into him. You watch his back tense and relax as you do, and you watch closer on the third. You wonder what he’s made of, what materials form his skin and muscles and bones. In your mind, he’s something fragile, a machine that can break down. In reality, you guess he’s probably more durable than you by an impressive degree. </p><p> </p><p>When you finally get to the final cable, number ten, Hal’s responses to your frequent check-ins on how he’s doing have become slow and slightly slurred. You guess that being hooked to the machine forces him into sleep-mode, but you're not positive of how it really works. </p><p>“Hal,” you badger him insistently, worry dampening your speech. You need to make sure he’s okay, that you did this right. There’s a small stretch of silence.</p><p>“Yeah, Egbert?” he manages, and you poke your head around to look at his face from the front of the cocoon. His legs are pulled inside so that his knees are against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around them. His head is lolled backwards against the back of the chair, but his eyes still glow dully, opening and looking at you. His mouth stretches open in a yawn, but you aren’t sure why he needs to do that. </p><p>“You’re okay? I can do the last one?” you press, and he flashes you the slowest and laziest thumbs up ever. You snort softly, reaching out to squeeze his wrist. </p><p>“Right. Goodnight, Hal,” you whisper, and he mumbles incoherently. You slip back around, push in the last needle, and stand for a moment. Hal’s body goes entirely silent all at once, the small motion of his breathing stilling through the fabric. The whir of his internal fan dies in your ears, and the fabric shifts as all the muscles that were tensed go slack, the cocoon sagging as his legs and arms shift. </p><p> </p><p>You don’t know when Dirk will be back, but you can’t help thinking you messed up. Is he supposed to look like that? You pester him, but get no response. He’s with Roxy. </p><p>You slide into Hal’s room. Should you really leave? What if he needs to be unhooked? You decide quickly to stay, settling into his bed and falling asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow. You guess you really were tired. </p><p> </p><p>Before you lose consciousness, the image of Hal’s back burns into your mind, while he was hiking, cooking, through the fabric of the chair as you plugged him in. He has a nice back, you think idly, and drift off entirely to blackness. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not my best but I like it rip! Hope yall do too and if you dont uh. I guess you can tell me but be kind im a fragile pussy boy.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Eggs and Toast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Goodmorning sunshine :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a blink of dead silence before you feel the catch of wires on your back, the dull tug of your digital awareness against the brighter feeling of charge through your circuits. It tones you down, puts you back on your default settings, and you take a deep breath you don’t need. While you can’t plug them into your back by yourself, there are sensors to force them out of you as soon as you hit full power. Dirk doesn’t want any wear on your battery life from overcharging.<br/>
It takes a few moments to run your diagnostics, something which you realize probably isn’t necessary. You like to do them after a recharge, though, mostly out of habit. Once upon a time, the feeling of reawakening usually meant something had been changed, and it wasn’t always a change you liked. </p>
<p>You aren’t big on thinking about those times. It’s better to let it go, you tell yourself. To know that he’s changed. He wants you to be happy as much as you want to be happy, if not only as a service to his conscience, but because he cares about you. In some very strange ways, he is your father- although that’s not something you’re big on thinking about, either. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Your scans are finished within 2 minutes and 34.57 seconds of waking up. With your intense processing power, it would be easy to do a preliminary in 4 seconds flat and call it done, but… sometimes change isn’t shallow, or obvious. You need to be sure everything is ok. </p>
<p>It takes another 3 minutes (and 2 seconds, on the dot, go figure,) for you to reorganize your wires on their hooks and change out of your mesh suit into a fresh one. It isn’t like you sweat, but there’s some placebo of freshness that comes with changing your clothes, and you cling to it in the mornings to make up for the deep, genuine breath of air you can’t have. You pull a sweatshirt on over your suit, some old crewneck Roxy lent you and you never gave back. It isn’t like she wore it, so you have no plans to return it.<br/>
<br/>
It takes another 4 minutes and 63.0008 seconds before there’s a soft knock on your door, which sets you on edge. You turn up your hearing sensitivity and listen, but it does nothing to reassure you. The shuffling of socks on the floor and the very slight rustle of fabric as someone moves on the other side doesn’t match Dirk’s normal volumes and patterns, and you don’t have a match logged for whoever is on the other side. You keep quiet, focusing an excessive amount of your processing on the perfection of your movement against the floor and the control of the fabric over your limbs, and then you lock yourself into position, connecting to the camera system in the hallway. It can’t see who’s inside your room- it was a matter of principle for you not to have a camera overlooking your area, because you know Dirk can get into the system just as fast as you can from his phone. That was another difference between the two of you; his paranoia overrode his need for independence, but yours did not. </p>
<p>A quick scan of the halls reveals no other intruders, but you do see Dirk, cooking in the kitchen. You shoot him a quick message, warning him that there is someone in the house, and you get one back almost instantly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="dirk">TT: Yeah, what, do you want him gone? I thought you guys were fucking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You have no time to respond before there’s another shuffle on the other side of the door, and the knock comes again.<br/>
“Hal? Dirk said I should come get you, if you weren’t already unplugged. He doesn’t want you to stay hooked up for too long and I couldn’t remember what time I- uh, you got plugged in.” You relax at the sound of John’s voice, and then you feel like an idiot. You divert the extra processing for noise and motion back to dormant, but not before filing a note for yourself to make sensors for John’s motion patterns later. You reach over and open the door, and smile tightly at him. </p>
<p>“Good morning, John,” you sigh, and breeze past him, moving toward the door of your room. “Back so soon?” </p>
<p>His neck goes red, and he rubs the back of it absentmindedly as he trails sluggishly behind you. </p>
<p>“I, uh, never actually went home,” he admits. “I was worried I might have done it wrong, and then I didn’t know whether it was OK to unplug you and ask, or if I would be able to do it again if I unplugged you, and I didn’t know how much charge you’d have and if it would last until Dirk got back, so...” he trails off, and you raise an eyebrow, pausing with your hand hooked around the side of your door. He casts his eyes away. “Well, Dirk seems annoyed by it, he said I didn’t need to be such a pussy about it. Kind of true, but I couldn’t leave without being sure.” He shrugs, and you feel constricted for a moment before you remember to kick your cooling fan back into motion.<br/>
“Thank you, John,” you sigh, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out and ruffle his hair. He snorts in surprise, and smiles widely at you. It’s a weak smile, but he holds it up strong as he can, bless his poor soul. “I promise you did fine, I’m all charged up, no issues or problems.”<br/>
<br/>
As you walk down the hallway to the kitchen, John fiddles with his hair- not like there’s much to fix, as he’d been sleeping right before he got you up anyways. When you ghost through the door, John padding behind you, Dirk is smirking over his pan of eggs. He flips them over with a flick of the wrist he uses to hold the pan, and only one of them flies out onto the floor. New record. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Morning, Strider and Co,” he hums, entertainment biting at the tip of his tongue. You scowl at him, reveling in the loose feeling of shifting the synthetic muscles under the material of your lips. It’s an expression you’re rather fond of, both because of the way it feels to tip down the corners of your mouth, and because you know it makes you look cool. John sure seems to think so, because he blinks at you, and then quickly looks away. Interesting, at the least.<br/>
“Good morning to you too, your highness,” you bite out, sounding more bitter than is probably necessary. It’s fine, though- he always knows what you mean. Right now, you mean <em>leave me the fuck alone. </em>Dirk knows that without you saying it, but you guess he doesn’t want to give up this opportunity to tease you. You think for a moment that you regret hanging out with John in the first place, but you backtrack as soon as the thought crosses your mind. Of course that isn’t true- you love hanging out with John. It isn’t even a big deal, not really, how you may or may not feel about the way he looks at you, or how he promised to <em>show you everything. </em>It doesn’t matter to you that much, not in the long run, if John might think you’re pretty. He understands you in a way you can’t comprehend, and while the thought is scary, it’s also exhilarating- a mirror image of the experience of sensation in your new body and new world going off in your head, a little mushroom cloud of chemical emotion.</p>
<p><br/>
“You two look well rested,” Dirk quips, and it pulls you from your thoughts. You smack him upside the head, a little harder than you need to, and he hisses in pain for a moment before glaring at you through his shades. You pluck them off of his face and stick them in your hair on top of your own. If you’re going to endure his good mood, he’s going to endure your bad one. He must have gotten baked at Rox’s last night.<br/>
“Yeah, sure. I’m all recharged,” you hum back, turning away from him and reaching toward the closet shelf for something to clean up the egg on the floor. He raises an eyebrow.<br/>
“I’m sure you’re… charged, yeah,” he says and you grab a mop from the closet, pivoting your foot and swinging it’s handle around toward his ankles. He jumps over it, sending his eggs flying upwards as the pan is jostled. He catches all but one, and you dig your heel into the floor tiling and reverse the sway of your arms to knock the last egg straight into his eyes with the handle of the mop. John gasps quietly behind you, and you hear him shuffling closer to the counter and sitting down. The egg drips down Dirk’s face- he likes them runny- and joins the egg that’s already on the floor. You grin wryly at him, and John giggles brightly. He’s leaning over the counter, chest resting on his folded arms, and he grins widely at you when you meet his gaze. You flash him a thumbs up at the same time that Dirk throws the pan back onto the stove with a metallic clatter, and trudges out of the room. Loser. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You salvage the three eggs left in the pan, sniffing them for a moment before scrunching your nose in disgust and adding garlic and tomato chunks. You throw some buttered toast in the pan, and John watches diligently from over the counter. When you flip the toast over, perfect golden brown on the bottom, he nods to himself, and you secretly glow at the act of approval. You’re about to throw it down on a plate for him, but he raises an eyebrow at you and you falter.<br/>
“What?” you huff, “did I miss something?” he grins mischievously at you, his teeth poking out under his lip. </p>
<p>“You didn’t add the secret ingredient,” he hums teasingly, and you scrunch your brow in confusion. He sits waiting for a moment before sighing in exasperation, and then he pulls himself up from his seat and bounds around the kitchen island to stand over the plate next to you. “You’ve gotta add love, mister Strider!” he chirps, and you cross your arms, leaning slightly away from him. </p>
<p>“Love? That’s kind of corny, don’t you think?” you sigh, and he shakes his head, laughing lightly.<br/>
“Maybe. But I thought you might put a little in there, since it’s for me,” he hums, and you flush, your wires singing the inside of your skin just barely. He laughs louder, now, and leans up into your face. </p>
<p>“Just watch and learn, Hal!” he sings, and twists away from you, blowing a kiss over the toast and eggs on his plate. When he straightens up again, he winks at you, and you push away your embarrassment by rolling your eyes at him.<br/>
“Yeah, I think it’s corny,” you repeat, and he just sticks out his tongue at you, picking up his plate with one hand and transferring it to the island. He sits back at his seat to eat, and you trail behind him, pulling yourself up over the countertop and swinging your legs around to hang on either side of him. He picks up the plate for you, and when you’ve settled, he sets it back down on top of your thighs, hooking his elbows over your knees to cut into his food. He looks even shorter when he sits down below you, and you ruffle his hair again, mostly out of the compulsion. He just smiles at you, mouth full of egg and toast. You don’t get to enjoy the moment for long, because Dirk trudges back in, face egg-free, and raises both eyebrows again. You ignore him decidedly, and by the time he’s grabbed himself a sad little bowl of cereal and left the room, John is already done with his eggs. You take his plate from him and bend backwards, hooking your legs onto the edge of the island so you can lean precariously over the empty space between countertops and slide the empty plate onto the other side of the gap. John steadies you, hands easily encircling your ankles to anchor you in place as you sit back up to face him. You grin down at him, and he smiles goofily back up at you, and doesn’t drop his hands from your legs. You lean over him, curling your spine forwards in a way that might hurt if you were human. Your faces are closer than is probably appropriate, but you like to look at him, and he’s not complaining. You study his skin, so natural and textured, unlike yours, and you look at his eyebrows, messier than yours. In many ways, the two of you are exact opposites. John is short where you are tall, wide-shouldered where you are slender, heavyset in contrast to your overly-thin frame. His heart beats wetly in his chest, and your internal cooling fan whirs softly in yours. His cheeks dust ever so slightly darker with the pump of his blood, and the wires beneath your paper-white exterior heat red to tickle you pink.<br/>
<br/>
**</p>
<p> </p>
<p>You aren’t sure when you start to lean in, but you notice it when you get a little too near, when your breath mingles with his. He makes some kind of clicking noise, and throws himself away from you, legs folding awkwardly on top of the island counter as he does. Your hands still grasp his ankles, and you quickly let go. You can see the thread of red wiring lines through his face as they warm, and his eyes seem to glaze over for a moment as his cooling fan speeds up. You can hear it working, and you think maybe you went too far.<br/>
“Hal? Hal, I’m sorry, are you ok?” You whisper hesitantly, and it takes a split second before he looks back at you and answers. It’s something you usually wouldn’t notice, but on Hal, the hesitation seems unnatural.<br/>
“I’m sorry,” he gushes, frowning deeply and folding his legs underneath him slowly. He stares at your lips, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “I didn’t mean to get that close, and-”<br/>
You cut him off easily, a frown taking up your own features to match his.<br/>
“I was the one that did that.” You say shortly, and his eyes widen, mouth parting and then closing again. It takes a few seconds for him to respond, and when he does, all he manages is “oh.” You’re not sure why you even find it upsetting that he didn’t realize what you were doing, because hell, neither did you. Well, that’s not entirely true either. You know exactly what you were doing, but… you don’t know if you understand it. You’ve never wanted to kiss a boy before, and for your whole life, you’d said you weren’t gay. You wanted to now, though, you could admit that much to yourself. You were just afraid that maybe Hal wouldn’t, and then you’d be left with nothing but curiosity.<br/>
It turns out you don’t have to bridge that gap, though, because after another few moments of heavily awkward silence, Hal speaks again.<br/>
“So, you were going to…” he trails off, and your cheeks burn.<br/>
“Yes. I’m sorry. I should have asked,” you sigh, already feeling yourself deflate with what is sure to be rejection. You’ve never liked a guy in your whole life, and of course the first time you do, he isn’t into you.<br/>
“No, no, no, it’s okay! I mean, yeah, warning would have been nice. I’m not opposed to that, though,” Hal rushes out, and you blink up at him in surprise. He looks shocked at himself, and you think he probably didn’t mean to say that out loud, or at least not with so little tact. “God, sorry, I’m just overwhelmed. My sensory input is really high with a body like this, and it’s difficult to properly process new sensations if I’m not expecting them,” he mumbles, and you reach up slowly, tugging his wrists to pull him down toward you again. He lets himself be guided, long torso and arms draping around you like curtains. You cup his cheek in one hand, carefully, and you meet his eyes, waiting.<br/>
“You do it.” You command softly. “And then you’ll know exactly when it’s coming.”<br/>
He blinks at you, eyes wide with some mixture of emotions you can’t identify. You nod at him, silently confirming your intention, and as he leans in, you let your eyes flutter shut. You know his eyes are open, and can feel his gaze on you. You keep yours closed, though- you’ll be blind for this, let him have all of it. You don’t need this like he does, don’t need to see it to know for sure.<br/>
<br/>
“I said,” you mumble softly into his lips, and he slows his own, not quite pulling away. “I would show you <em>everything.</em>” <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
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